


Ten Minutes to Midnight

by JackyJango



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Charles Always Says the Absolute Worst Thing He Could Possibly Say, Charles You Will Be Drunk, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Erik is a Sweetheart, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-15 12:15:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13030923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango
Summary: Charles loses it. Suddenly, a month of denial becomes too much to bear. The feelings he had been suppressing to the depths of his heart with alcohol come crashing past the guards to the forefront. His breathing shallows and a mist covers his eyes. The happiness of a thousand people becomes inadequate in filling a hollow left by a single man. The gaping emptiness in his mind and heart leaves him insufferable and incomplete. He shivers in place and a shudder escapes his lips.For Fullmetalcarer's prompt:Winter wonderland- Melodrama, Angst and Romance





	Ten Minutes to Midnight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fullmetalcarer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/gifts).



> FMC... I know that this work doesn't fully encompass your prompt, but I did pick bits and pieces of it to stitch up a fic.  
> I'm sorry if this isn't a grand romance or an outright AU, but some romance I tried to induce into it.  
> I wrote this fic with lots of love because I absolutely adore you and your work.  
> You're a Star Mod and thank you for all the work you've put into running the Secret Exchange.
> 
> Please forgive me if there are any mistakes (which I'm sure are there in bounds).  
> I hope you enjoy, regardless. Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year, FMC ! XD  
> Cheers!

          'You can't possibly wallow more than you already are. Keep up like this and you'll be drowning in your own drool,’ Raven says from the doorway. She's wrapped in a thick black coat, a white scarf cushioning her bright blue face.

_Watch me,_ Charles wants to say. The words almost tumble out of his tongue; because that is his grand plan for Christmas Eve- get drunk on his mother's expensive scotch till his stomach gives out and cry into his pillow until he passes out. There's an odd satisfaction that trails self pity that Charles has come to appreciate of late. He's starting to see why his mother preferred staring down the bottom of an empty bottle to consciousness.

‘I’m not going to wallow,’ he protests. It's a lie; not that Raven doesn't know. 'Besides, I have piles of paperwork that I need to finish before the year end, Raven. It's not like I'm going to drink my guts out, or drown in my own drool for that matter. Take the kids out. They've been looking forward to this.’

Raven hooks a knowing eyebrow, and thankfully doesn't call out on his bluff. She strides forward and crouches in front of him. 'Firstly, they’re not _kids._ Secondly, it's Christmas Eve, Charles,’ she drawls. The fiery yellow of her eyes mellow down to a sunset gold and the edge in her voice softens. ‘It's our tradition. Remember?’

Raven might not be an Xavier by birth, but she surely has mastered the art of manipulation better than any Xavier. As if her pleading eyes weren't successful in convincing him, she barrages a stash of memories at him. Memories of the two of them sneaking their mother's empty wine bottles into the attic and sticking them at odd angles to form a crude Christmas tree. Heaps of torn tissue would serve as snow and shaggy tinsels would brighten the dingy space. They would stick their presents next to their rudimentary arrangement and pretend for one evening that everything was fine with the world. That they were a perfect family.

All through the years that Charles had been in Oxford, Raven had flown to spend every single Christmas with him. The religious annotation on the festival might have been lost on the two of them, but she’s right. It’s their tradition.

'Please…’ she tries again.

Damn her.

*

The snowfall that had ceased the day before has resumed now, spewing tufts of soft snow into the air that gingerly meander their way to the ground. Technicoloured lights glint off the hard snow littering the ground to spell a soft glow into the air. Tinsels fall off of every available surface and rickety Christmas trees smarter the expanse, bursting with ornaments in a multitude of designs. The shops lined on either side of the market are brightly lit and brimming with people. A jazz band plays a little off to the side in tune with a group of young carol singers, the cumulative result unique and unprecedented.

The kids, who had been over-zealous ever since Raven mentioned the midnight Christmas market to them, are bouncing with excitement ahead of him, waving at every shaggy elf and floppy Santa. Charles lets his shields down and lets their collective happiness wash over him. It diminishes the vacuousness of his empty mind. To an extent.

The aroma of ginger-bread and candies pulls the group into an eatery serving all-day-breakfast. Of course, the kids’ reaction to that is to stuff their stomachs with eye-popping amounts of sugar. Normally, Charles would advocate healthy eating habits, but today, he lets it go.

Bobby spots a frozen pond in the nook of the market which has been turned into an impromptu skating rink. He pulls everyone along in that direction. The area is sparsely populated compared to the rest of the market, the warmth thinning along with the dwindling crowd.

Charles excuses himself from the group and parks his chair in front a giant Christmas tree lining one side of the rink. The lowest branches graze his head and muss his hair. The lights silhouetting the buildings in front of him dim and glow through the falling snow. Kitty and rogue are trying to stand on the slippery ice and failing miserably, their falls accompanied by ruckus and laughter. Hank and Raven are tying a trinket they purchased in the market to a tree on the other side of the rink, doe-eyed and huddled together. Ororo captures a snowflake in her hand, transforms it into a heart and slips it into Jean’s hands. The latter kisses a laughing Ororo shyly.

Everyone is _happy_.

Charles looks away. He absently trails a hand along the branch above him and his fingers catch a heart tied to its edge. _Paula and John,_ is engraved on the heart in bold white letters. And just like that, Charles loses it. Suddenly, a month of denial becomes too much to bear. The feelings he had been suppressing to the depths of his heart with alcohol come crashing past his guards to the forefront. His breathing shallows and a mist covers his eyes. The happiness of a thousand people becomes inadequate in filling a hollow left by a single man. The gaping emptiness in his mind and heart leaves him insufferable and incomplete. He shivers in place and a shudder escapes his lips.

‘It’s the metal, you know,’ a voice says from his left, the depth and the rumble intimately familiar. Charles closes his eyes and a tear breaks free of the tension and cascades down his cheek.

‘No matter how many layers you’re covered in, the metal gets cold.’ Belatedly, Charles realises that his shoulders are shaking. He doubts it has anything to do with the cold. Or the metal.

Slowly, Charles looks up at Erik, now that he’s just a few feet away. He tries to ignore the way his heart lurches painfully in his chest and fails.

Erik looks the same, collected and composed, but Charles doesn’t miss to notice the dark circles under his eyes. For one selfish moment he wishes that Erik’s lack of sleep stemmed from missing him. He _wants_ Erik to miss him.

He clears his mind of such thoughts and steels himself. ‘What are you doing here, Erik?’ he asks once he’s found his voice.

Erik takes a step forward and stops, ‘Raven,’ he says in lieu of explanation, ‘She invited me. Said she had something to discuss. I didn’t know that…’ he trails off, waving vaguely in charles’ direction.

The sister in question is doing a poor job of painting her glances in their direction as unintentional.

‘Would you have come if you knew that I’d be here?’ The words escape Charles’ mouth before he can simulate the sentence in his mind. His voice wobbles and cracks at the end.

Erik looks at him for a moment, his gaze liquid. He finally huffs and shakes his head. ‘You seem to doubt it,’ he says looking straight into Charles’ eyes, ‘But, yes. I would be have come if I’d known that you’d be here. Why wouldn't I?’

Of course, why wouldn’t he?

Charles’ stubbornness, his resolve to defend and his claim at righteousness melt like snow under the warm caress of the sun; like butter over heat. His hands itch to touch Erik and his mind lunges to encompass the familiar expanse of Erik’s mind. He tightens his hands into fists over his lap and reigns his thoughts. The weight of the past month has left him tired. He realises just how much now that he’s willing to admit it.

He wants all of this to stop. He wants to hug Erik and he wants this to stop. _You sound like a needy and petulant child_ , his mother would have chided him, but he doesn’t care.

‘Erik,’ he starts, fiddling with the heart on the branch, and stops. _I’m sorry I went behind your back to know your past. I’m sorry I didn’t give you enough space. I’m sorry I didn’t give you  a chance to explain yourself. I want you back in my mind, It doesn’t feel the same without you. I want you back in my bed. I want to lie on your shoulder and fall asleep. I miss the tea you make me every morning. I miss you every morning. I’ve missed you every minute of the past month. I love you,_ he wants to say, but all those words rise up and stumble under the weight of the lump in his throat. ‘Erik…’ he says again. Words fail him.

He hears Erik sigh, and suddenly Erik is in front of him, crouching down and coaxing his gloved hands into his. Had Charles projected all of that?

‘Charles,’ Erik hooks his fingers below Charles’ chin and gets the latter to face him. ‘I’m not a telepath. I can’t and _won’t_ look into your mind to understand your feelings. You have to talk to me, Charles.’

Any protest that begins to build in Charles’ throat dies on his tongue.

‘You accuse me of not communicating. You can’t back off now that I’m putting in the effort.’ Erik laces his fingers with his and squeezes. ‘Tell me what you want, Charles.’

Charles clears his throat and steals his voice. After a month of mulling over the words in his head, it begins to flow free- uncouth and clumsy. ‘I’m sorry for snooping behind your back. I was scared that you’ll push me away if I asked you upfront. I just wanted to know you. I promise I won’t do it again.’ He ignores the wobble of his voice and the hitch accompanying his breath and continues, ‘I want you to forgive me. I want you to come back home. The kids miss you. I want you to come back into my head. Come back to our bed. I can’t stand to sleep alone another night. I can’t stand to spend a single day without you.’ He closes his eyes and the tears break free. His next words dodge over sobs. ‘I want you to kiss me and hug me and never let me go.’

The next moment, there are lips on his, warm and familiar. Charles frees one hand and cards it through Erik’s hair, internally cursing the barrier of his gloves. The action is second nature to him, he doesn’t need the aid of vision to assist his motions.

Erik’s breath is warm where it ghosts across his nose. Erik’s chapped lips tantalise his where he kisses his way into his mouth. Erik’s smell permeates his senses and Erik’s presence warms his heart. Erik’s beloved mind mingles with his; flowing like liquid gold and filling up the gorges and gaps. _Erik… Erik… Erik…_ is all Charles can think.

Erik chuckles when they part for air. ‘I missed your mind, too,’ he says smiling. The lights on the tree dance in his eyes creating a kaleidoscope of colours.

Slowly, the buzz of his surroundings pulls Charles into the present. The kids are still skating on the ice, oblivious to their presence. A deep voice booms from somewhere on the microphone: _Ten minutes to midnight._

‘Do you think they’ll notice if you go missing from here?’ Erik asks him with a twinkle in his eyes.

Charles looks to the rink again to find Raven and Hank immersed in a passionate kiss. He smiles.

‘I don’t think they will. What do you have in mind?’

Erik leans closer and whispers in his ear, his hot breath altering every hair follicle in its wake, ‘Something on the lines of hugging you and never letting you go.’

Charles laughs jubilantly. A warmth hugs his heart. ‘I like the sound of that.’

-

**Author's Note:**

> Also, [JackyJango](https://jackyjango.tumblr.com) on Tumblr
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
